The Architecture of Happiness

Best for: People not that familiar with architecture who are interested in learning about it in a philosophical way.

In a nutshell: Author de Botton takes the reader through a lovely journey exploring how the buildings we inhabit can help fill missing pieces in our lives, and impact how we feel.

Line that sticks with me: “The buildings we admire are ultimately those which, in a variety of ways, extol values we think worthwhile.” (p 98)

Why I chose it: I bought this long ago. It’s survived multiple book purges and moves, but I finally opened it up because I’m participating in a book challenge this summer, and one of the categories is a book about art or an artist. To avoid spending all the money, I’m checking my to read pile show more first, and came across this gem.

Review: I don’t know much (anything?) about architecture. I know that craftsman homes are popular in my current city, and that ranch-style homes were popular where I grew up. I’ve been learning a bit reading the amazing blog McMansion Hell (which I only came across recently thanks to Zillow going after the writer, then having to back off), but I’ve not been able to put my finger on why certain styles depress the hell of me (most one-story homes; any office park a la Office Space), while others bring me joy (pretty much anything in Paris).

This book has helped me to understand a bit better where my tastes lay and why. I am certain that there are architects who would disagree, but much of Mr. de Botton’s premise is that not only does style reflect the available resources and the elements that must be kept out (a house in Phoenix is probably going to look different from a house in Finland), but also the lives we are living. The greatest example of this is when he argues that people who seek out modernist homes are looking for some order in a chaotic life outside the home, whereas those dramatic palaces built in the 1600s weren’t just a fancy show of money, but also an attempt to create beauty in a time that was pretty dangerous (I mean, think about the diseases running rampant through cities).

I feel that I learned about architecture and beauty, but I also got to enjoy some gorgeous writing. The language Mr. de Botton uses throughout is lovely, a perfect accompaniment to the many examples of different styles of home and building. It can be a bit dense at time, but I think it is worth it, especially for those interested in a more philosophical examination of our built environment.

The only reason this is a 4-star book for me is because there are so many lovely pictures in this edition but they are all in black and white, which really takes away from my ability to see the detail and understand more of why they might be examples of architecture that elevates or depresses us. If not for that, this would be a 5-star read. show less

This is the third of De Botton's books that I have read. I enjoyed 'The Consolations of Philosophy', as it taught me a lot about the history of philosophy and about some of its prime movers. De Botton kept himself out of the text as much as possible, and let the philosophers' words shine on their own.

Then I had my first real meeting with Proust, in 'How Proust Can Change Your Life'. Again, it was not De Botton's writing that most impressed me, although it was good in its own way. De Botton proved a most capable gatekeeper to a writing talent I hope to enjoy some other time, but who was extremely able to express his ideas himself.

Finally, I have experienced what De Botton can do when he writes something truly his own, about people who show more certainly communicate a lot to the world, but who generally do it nonverbally - architects.

De Botton examines what it is to build, and to build beautifully. He looks to philosophy to provide answers to the questions that drive architectural fashions, and offers some insights into why beautiful buildings are beautiful and ugly ones so overwhelmingly ugly. He writes lucidly and with a personal touch that makes his essay seem almost conversational at times.

This is without a doubt the best book I have read about architecture; I learnt a lot that I am sure soon to forget, so this book will keep its place on my shelf for years and years, always ready to remind me of the secrets of the four walls around me. show less

I do love architecture and frequently find myself fascinated by examples of architecture while traveling. This is a beautifully written book, sort of part philosophy and part close observation of building and design and, if you like that sort of thing, you might try this. One caveat: the section on why buildings speak to us is pure anthropomorphic blather. De Botton is better than this. You could skip it to avoid being annoyed, but the illustrations are worth a look. Regardless, I would read the book again, no problem, and recommend it to others.

de Botton discusses what makes different architectural styles appealing and tries to answer the question "How can we judge the quality of architecture when we admit that no style is universally the best?" As I see it, he answers the questions in three ways.

Architecture and psychology

The first answer will resonate with anyone who enjoys environmental psychology. Buildings should appeal to the psychological needs of those who interact with them. At the most basic level, this implies that the form of a building should be related to its function, but it goes beyond that. A building also needs to appeal to the deeper psychological needs of the culture and time it belongs in. de Botton boils these psychological needs down to two main show more categories: memory and ideals.

Memory

Memories are triggered by surroundings (as well as by smell, sound -- any input really). A building that reminds one too much of school may cause one to feel anxiety or pleasure, depending on one's experience in the educational system. While it is impossible for an architect to know what memories will be triggered in any specific person, there are cultural memories that are can be embedded in architecture.

Ideals

Architecture is psychologically related to the past through memory. It is related to the future through ideals. People will react positively to architecture that reflects who they want to be. An unorganized person who wants to be organized may find simple architecture more appealing than ornamental architecture. Good architecture should reflect the ideals of its intended audience.

The Effect of Time

Designing a building to appeal to the psychology of a particular group of people means that a building may not always be considered as wonderful as it was when it was first built. As the associations with a particular type of architecture change, perceptions of a building will change. As the needs and ideals of a society change, perceptions of a building will change. This means that no architectural style is really timeless (although a building may be, as a historical artifact). However, that is okay, as long as the new styles (which may very well be rehashes of older styles) appeal to the needs of their time.

Virtues of Buildings

All that psychological mumbo jumbo aside, de Botton does argue that there are some basic aesthetic principles that can be used to judge a building or an architectural style.

Order

de Botton claims that we tend to like spaces that are ordered. What he means by this is that people like places where they can see some mark of intention and intelligence. People like to know that things are how they are because of some plan. I relate order to Mehrabian's idea of load as described in Public Places and Private Spaces. The idea of load is that a place requires some amount of mental processing. Places that require a large amount of mental processing are perceived negatively when a person does not have the desire or ability to put that much attention into the place. Order is appealing because it reduces the load of a place. Order is contrasted with complexity. Too little complexity (too much order) is boring. When the load of a place is too low, the mental processing is too easy and, if one does not having something to distract oneself with, the place will start to seem boring.

Balance

Balance is achieved when, in the words of de Botton,

architects skilfully mediate between any number of oppositions, including the old and the new, the natural and the man-made, the luxurious and the modest, and the masculine and the feminine.

The appeal of balance is that it introduces the unexpected. One of the components that contributes to load in Mehrabian's work is the arousal/non-arousal spectrum. By providing balance between contrasting elements, an architect can increase the arousal of a place. This makes the place more stimulating, and, therefore, more interesting. However, a person who feels that the contrasting elements are not balanced may feel overly aroused because one element is perceived as unexpected. If the increased arousal is not balanced by some pleasurable aspect, the place will be perceived negatively.

Elegance

The third architectural "virtue" that de Botton discusses is elegance. Elegance, in this book, represents the "wow" or "how does it do that?" factor of architecture. It involves overcoming a challenge with seeming ease. I relate elegance to the dominance/submissiveness axis in Mehrabian's work. A thin column, a long bridge, or complex and functionally unnecessary ornamentation demonstrates that the architect, engineers, and workers and, by extension, humanity and the observer have conquered nature and, seemingly, even physics by creating something that demonstrates their skill and superiority. However, a point de Botton does not bring up is that elegance must be trustworthy. A column that seems too thin to hold up a roof will make the building feel unsafe (at least until people adapt to the new materials or techniques that made it possible).

Coherence

A building in incoherent if it is trying to be something it is not. A skyscraper that imitates the style of traditional 1 or 2 story buildings will look out of place. Short buildings, because their width is generally comparable to or greater than their height, tend to stress the horizontal. A tall skinny window looks much more out of place on a standard home than a wide picture window. Incoherence comes about when architectures try to borrow from other styles without understanding what impression the elements they borrow give or why they work for existing buildings. Coherence, to put it squishily, is a way of evaluating the degree to which a building spiritually fits in to larger physical and cultural communities it is a part of. By understanding what makes a building coherent, an architect can design a building that is superficially different from the buildings around it but fits in better than a building that just borrows the trappings of the buildings around it without understanding them.

Self-knowledge

Self-knowledge in architecture applies when an architect designs a building that fits the real needs (and weaknesses) of people. A tower surrounded by green parks may be a more efficient method of housing than many houses with tiny yards, but in a densely packed tower, one disruptive person has the ability to cause a large disruption. This point is where the chapter on virtues touches most closely on environmental psychology. The most beautiful and logical building in the world can be considered a failure if it was not built with an understanding of how people will really use it.

As good as the land it's replacing

Good architecture, according to de Botton, should be as good as the land that it is replacing. When land has been built upon, people should feel that while something has been lost, something just as good (different, but just as good) should be gained. If a building is thoughtfully and beautifully built, "the promise of a field", as the chapter is called, will be fulfilled. One conclusion you can draw from this is that it is okay to destroy nature with beautiful buildings, but I do not think that is what de Botton means (if so, shame on him!). I think what he means is that if we are going to destroy nature by building on it, we should design buildings that are beautiful and that fitting. That, I can agree with.

Conclusion

One thing I like about this book is that it has lots and lots of pictures (I really think the book might be half pictures). However, like in Gallagher's House Thinking, there is an emphasis on specific examples and not quite enough general discussion to suit my taste. Most of what I wrote above was what I extracted from the examples rather than things set out explicitly. Yet, I suppose, it is good practice for me to study actual examples and draw conclusions for them. Overall, this was an excellent book. show less

At first I thought the nouns should be reversed, ie, the Happiness of Architecture. But I began to realise that the book isn't so much about architecture as it is about people and how they express themselves with architecture, as they do with other art forms. He is using architecture to explain humans. He anthropomorphises archictecture. Architecture becomes a frozen emotion. He says that “In essence, what works of design and architecture talk to us about is the kind of life that would most appropriately unfold within and around them” Design is used to show what we want to be, or what we want our values to be. It springs from “…the need for idealised forms to stand as a defence against all that remains corrupt and unimaginative show more within us.” The human psyche naturally seeks balance and ‘beautiful’ architecture provides that, a psychological balance and therefore mental well being and happiness. “In literature, too,” he says, “we admire prose in which a small and astutely arranged set of words has been constructed to carry a large consignment of ideas.” De Botton’s book is just that: a small and astutely arranged set of words that carries a large consignment of ideas. Which brought me to happiness. show less

Summary: Alain de Botton explores the effect of architecture on the human condition: how it inspires us, how it enforces our ideals of beauty, and how it reflects our culture and our desires.

Review: My sister, who is starting her studies in architecture at the University of Toronto, bought this book to prepare herself. One day I had nothing to read, so she lent me her copy. It’s a slim book but it packs a lot of ideas, and it doesn’t hurt that de Botton is an elegiac, poetic writer, capable of squeezing poignancy even into the most mundane sentences. I mean it: this is a man who could write about eating toast and I would lap it all up.

His suggestions about architecture are interesting. I don’t know much about the subject so I show more can’t offer an educated opinion, but I thought he did a good job of exploring the connection between architecture and human wants and fears. It’s also good that there are photos to accompany his writing so that I can see what he means — some of the pictures took my breath away.

However, one niggling feeling ate at me the entire time I was reading, and those were De Botton's prejudices. He discusses the universals of architecture and the human condition but what he's really talking about is the West. He talks about how humans all want democracy and classical ideals and things like that, but that is only a limited view of humanity. Yes, he mentions briefly Japanese architecture and culture, but not much and a bit on Japan is hardly encompassing all non-Western cultures (as an Asian I get annoyed when Japan is always presented to the West as the model Asian nation, but that's another rant entirely). I don’t mind that he focuses on Western culture. I just wish he would clarify that more often rather than assume that the West is default. Also, he tends to revert to male as default when talking about people whose gender are unknown. This is a pet peeve. Others might not mind it but in an academic context it is like nails on a chalkboard for me.

Conclusion: A pretty book about a subject I was eager to learn more about. Ticks off a few of my buttons, but overall a good read. show less

I bought this book because I'm interested in why we like or don't like buildings. I was generally happy with what I found -- a mixture of clear and interesting prose and many reasonably good black and white photographs to support the author's arguments about what we like in architecture. I appreciated particularly the argument that these kinds of values should be higher priorities for architects than the promulgation of some architectural theory. Auteurism in architecture may grab media attention, it may even bring dollars to a city, but it doesn't make for places people like. The other part of the book that very much appealed to me was the discussion of personification. By strange coincidence, I'd just heard a talk given on an odd kind show more of synaesthesia in which a person had strong personifications for letters of the alphabet (B is a nasty character who doesn't get along with his friends, etc.) So after hearing that talk, to open a book that had a photograph of an array of faucets and a caption saying "which one of these would you like as a friend?" I was hooked and finished the book quickly. I found the latter part of the book became a bit more abstract and unconvincing and my attention drifted a bit. show less